


Another Day with Depression

by fynnit



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Depression, F/F, F/M, M/M, Substance Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 07:56:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5700892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fynnit/pseuds/fynnit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Preston remembers the first day he met Depression.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Day with Depression

  In the small Lonely Chapel, on a warm April morning, Preston watches his parents get married. It was a beautiful wedding, well, as beautiful as it could get in the wasteland. The sun pours in from the window as he watches his parents kiss, sealing their vows. Everyone in the room claps except for him; he doesn’t understand what’s happening. The sights and sounds are too overwhelming for him. He’s only six years old when he first meets Depression, a cold feeling that spreads through his chest, clouding his mind. He doesn’t want to admit that he’s afraid, so he pretends he isn’t.

  From then on Depression had stayed his friend whether he had wanted it to or not. It constantly nagged him in the back of his mind, saying he looked ugly in that shirt or that he shouldn’t of spoken. Depression was easier to ignore when he was kid. He didn’t really bother to listen to it, either too caught up in kid stuff like tag or hide and seek. Preston liked having Depression around sometimes, it was his only friend. He could always count on it to understand what he was feeling when the whole world was against him.

  Things didn’t start to spiral until his parents convinced him he had to go to school - to have some kind of an education. Depression was there in the back of his mind, repeating he wasn’t smart enough, that it’d be easier to stay home and sleep. He slept through the first week of school.

  By the time he was fifteen he and Depression ruled the world together. They did whatever they wanted. They smoked, drank and had sex with anyone they could find. Preston was unstoppable, absolutely untouchable when he was with Depression. His parents begged him to turn his life around, to do something, anything to change, but Depression was there, telling him that he couldn’t. Preston that life is gone.

  It wasn’t soon before he had overdosed on drugs, laying in a pile of his own vomit and blood. _You deserve this._ It had said. _You deserve to be dead for everything you’ve done._ For the first time Preston wished he was dead. He wished the drugs or the drinks or something had killed him. It wasn’t too long after he looked for his first gun.

  Preston had been seventeen when he saw the Minutemen for the first time. Raiders were attacking a nearby settlement, holding four women hostage. He wanted to help, but Depression had said that he would be no help, so he stood from the outskirts of the settlement and watched. He watched as a settler was executed, Depression grinning from a dark place inside of him. _Wouldn’t you love to do that to someone? Make their suffering end?_ He knew Depression had meant him, but he pushed it’s voice out of his head. A sudden gunshot rang throughout the settlement and the raider dropped dead, her blood splattering all over a nearby barn.

  It was the Minutemen; it was the justice. Depression hated justice, but Preston adored it. He stood there with a big smile on his face as they freed the people, returning their settlement back to their rightful owners.

He didn't notice the raider creep up behind him. He doesn’t remember anything after that.

\------------------------

  He awakens in a strange room, head pounding and an IV in his arm. A man he’s never seen before walks into the room with a tray of food; a warm bowl of stew and a glass of water. Preston sits up slowly, taking in his surroundings. Depression wasn’t there, so that was a good sign.

  “Hey, bud.” The man sits in front of him, gently setting the tray down on his lap. “It’s good to see you’re alive. You took quite the blow from that raider.” Preston lifts his hand to his head, feeling the fabric of the bandages underneath his fingers. The man nods at him. “What’s your name kid?”

  He looks at the man and swallows, nervous and afraid. “M-My name is Preston. Preston Garvey.” If Depression were there, it’d mention how stupid he sounded.

  “Well son,” the man remarks, “I’m Kolonel Hollis. I led the Minutemen into your settlement.” Kolonel Hollis smiles at him and takes his hand then, squeezing it lightly. “You were very brave standing against them.”

  Preston furrows his eyebrows. He only remembers watching, not helping. “I-I didn’t do anything, sir.” Depression often called him a coward. “I.. I watched.” He didn’t want Hollis to think he was coward, but he didn’t want to lie either.

  “Kid,” he started, “sometimes all justice needs is one person who doesn’t break in the face of disaster. You inspired us. People like you are what we need. How old are you?”

  “I’m seventeen sir.” Why did he need to know? Hollis’ smile only widened and he laughed warmly. Preston was terrified.

  “Great! You’re on the team, kid!” Hollis stood up and took his hat off, putting it on Preston’s head. “Make me proud, kiddo.”

He didn’t see Depression for a long time after that.

\-------------------------

  After losing Kolonel Hollis Depression returned. He had gathered the few survivors of the Quincy Massacre and managed to convince Clint to let them go. He had a promising new place for a settlement in mind and with a group of 20, they could definitely make it work. Depression was quiet most of time, only rearing its ugly head when he thought of Hollis. You let him die, coward. He shook the thought away.

  Lexington was a disaster. Depression let him replay the moments of his best friends deaths over and over in his mind. It loved every second of Preston’s agony. It loved that Preston blamed himself. 

  When they arrived in Concord, Depression had become his shadow. His mask was breaking, allowing it in further - taunting him. There were only eight of them left when they stepped inside the Museum of Freedom, and after meeting the raiders, there was five. Soon, there were would one, and soon he would be dead.

_Give it up, coward. There’s no one to save you now._

The sound of footsteps below him alerted Preston that someone else had entered the museum. Shots rung out and one by one, the raiders fell. He leaned halfway out of the small window space just to see them. They looked up at him and winked, and he felt his face get hot. Who the fuck were they? He sees them make their way upstairs and he readies his laser musket, not trusting them just yet. When they open the door they immediately lower their weapon, making Preston lower his too. They walk over, and offer to help him right away.

He sucks in air when they leave and Depression follows them instead.


End file.
